King's favorite and masked Saracen
by flowerbird
Summary: Set in pre-series to the show. Saving King Richard's life, Robin of Locksley is almost mortally wounded by the masked Saracen in the assassination attempt on Richard's life in Acre. In reality, the masked Saracen is Guy of Gisborne. They fight, and Guy fails to flee because he is gravely wounded by Robin. Will Robin and Guy live? How could their relationship be different?
1. Chapter 1

The story is set in pre-series to the Robin Hood BBC show.

Saving King Richard's life, Robin of Locksley is seriously injured by the masked Saracen in the assassination attempt on Richard's life in Acre. The Saracen is really Guy of Gisborne. They fight, but Robin is not the only one who is gravely wounded. What if Robin had seriously wounded Guy? What could have been different? How could Robin and Guy's relationship be different?

I love the stories about Robin in the Holy Land the most. I wanted to write a story on this topic, but I failed to develop a good plot. I would like to thank a dear, dear writer – Amaranthe Athenais – for her original idea, help and mapping out the scenes. We did it together.

Reviews are very welcome! Thank you!

Of course, I don't own Robin Hood BBC and the heroes. Some heroes, like King Richard's favorites, are introduced by myself. Thanks to Amaranthe Athenais for historical information about King Richard the Lionheart's entourage.

* * *

**King's favorite and masked Saracen**

**Chapter 1**

**Unexpected Saracen attack**

It was a late night in the Holy Land. As the sun disappeared on the horizon several hours ago, the temperature plummeted, and by midnight it was almost freezing. The star-spangled sky above Acre seemed glassy and endless. There were many more bright stars and whimsical constellations in the southern sky above the Holy Land than in the northern one above England, which made the night more tolerable among the monotonous yellow dunes.

Absolute stillness reigned in the Crusaders' camp located just outside the walls of Acre, in the desert. It seemed that not a soul was awake at that late hour. Only several guards were at watch on their usual posts, guarding the entrance to the camp and all the existing paths that might have been used to sneak into the camp unnoticed. Two guards stood near the King of England's large tent, their hands at the hilts of their long curved Saracen swords - scimitars.

Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington and the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard, slept on a canopied, wide, wooden bed, with a headboard carved in an elaborate design, in his tent. Everyone could say that it was a tent occupied not by a common soldier, but, most likely, by a man of a high position and, perhaps, even a royal favorite. There were expensive hangings and fine silk bedding sheets and pillows, some splendid pieces of furniture around, and luxurious Turkish rugs with countless soft pillows thrown on them. Much, Robin's loyal manservant, slept on a narrow cot near Robin's bed.

It was a difficult day for Captain Locksley. Robin had several meetings with King Richard, and they discussed the current ceasefire and the terms of its continuation they planned to present to Saladin's generals. Talks of peace had become usual many months ago, but this time there was a real chance that the Crusaders would sign a long-awaited peace treaty with Saladin.

Yet, Richard still sought new allies against Saladin. As a result, today Robin had to entertain Rashid ad-Din Sinan, also known as the Old Man of the Mountain. He was the grand-Master of the Assassins of Syria and was at odds with Saladin since he replaced the Fatimids of Egypt many years ago. Peace negotiations and simultaneous search for new allies in the region were the strategies which didn't inspire Robin to hope for the speedy end of the peace negotiations. At least they had a ceasefire in the past four months, and they didn't have to fight every day.

Robin of Locksley didn't sleep well on that night. His sleep was restless as he was again haunted by recurring, terrible nightmares. It was normal for him since the first weeks he had begun fighting in the Holy Land five years ago. The nightmares haunted him even when he didn't fight for several weeks.

Robin had blood of thousands of Saracens on his hands, and it tailed after him in his dreams every night since his first killing of an infidel so long ago. His dreams were about bloody battles and cruel massacres, executions of prisoners and captures of assassins. He dreamed of the war horrors: hissing crash of sword on sword, sword on shield; loud and desperate screams and cries of pain and death; brutal slaughter on the battlefield; innumerable faces of Turkish children and women, screaming and begging the Christians for mercy; eyes of dying men, rolling, trembling and whinnying with fear; bodies, whole and with severed limbs and heads, rotting on the yellow sand; the obnoxious lingering odor of blood, rottenness, sickness, and sweat; the cruel burning sun above the desert, in the dark blue, unclouded sky; and bloodshed on a massive scale.

In the Holy Land, Robin had a reputation of the brave Captain Locksley. On the battlefield, he was a professional bloodthirsty soldier who killed, killed, and killed, never letting himself to think of being killed. He fought with natural grace, dark beauty, and murderous skills, outwitting Saracens and crushing them with expert blows of his long Saracen curved sword – a scimitar. His strategy in the battle was to be adroit, desperate, a little mad, and succeed. In a battle, he always was near his King, defending him and saving the King's life. Never thinking of failure was his general principle, which helped him win the majority of the battles he led or participated in.

Locksley's name was spoken in the Holy Land with adoration, fascination, envy, and fear. His enemies – the Saracens in general – knew his reputation in the war, and they feared him in the battle. Robin was also well known for his high sense of honor and humanity as he was one of the few Crusaders who were against massacring Saracen women and children; there were cases when he commanded his men to ensure that children and women had been escorted out of the towns and villages, which were captured by the Crusaders. Robin was respected by his enemies for his honor and humanity. The dauntless assassins – the assassins of Masyaf and of Syria – also respected Robin and even agreed to have alliance negotiations with King Richard the Lionheart.

King Richard loved Robin the most among his knights and held him in the highest royal favor. It was said that Robin of Locksley was the King's grand favorite, rivaled only by Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, who was the Captain of the Second Guard of the King's own forces and Robin's close friend.

Locksley and Leicester were the closest and the most loyal people to the King of England. Robin's men from the Private Guard adored and loved their leader, and many of them envied him. He was a good leader and a military commander, who knew how to lead and inspire his people.

Robin was the best marksman in the King of England's army, if not in all the Christian troops in Outremer, and his bow killed countless infidels. Despite not having a typical knightly complexion – he was a man of average height and light weight, muscular enough but rather lean, Robin was one of the best swordsmen in the King's Private Guard he himself headed.

His sword skills were greatly practiced and deadly. His style of fighting with a sword was graceful, unique, and difficult to imitate. Robin used his own exclusive types of lunges and ways to parry blows with sword, which he worked out for himself and adjusted to his complexion in order to be fight against physically stronger and heavier knights and enemies. Robin's highly specific blows and lunges allowed him to kill several men with a mere round blow and a swirl of his body, which especially helped if he was surrounded by many enemies on the battlefield.

The above-mentioned skills also helped perform non-stop slaughter, attacking and defending, in a fierce battle and considerably increased the chances of winning. Many of these lunges and parries were technically complicated and could have been performed only by knights with great legerity. Of course, Robin regularly practiced and improved his sword skills. Although he taught his men to shoot and fight, he didn't pass his highly specific secret sword skills to many other knights – they were only his. No one fought with sword in the same style as Robin did.

Despite the King's great favor Robin had been accustomed to enjoy, no one could say that Robin had undeserved his high-ranking position in the King's troops as it was given to him due to the King's acknowledgement of his military talents. He demonstrated his military potential in the battle of Messina on Sicily when Tancred of Lecce seized power after the death of his cousin King William II of Sicily and kept Princess Joan Plantagenet, Dowager Queen of Sicily, as a prisoner, demanding her to marry him. King Richard attacked and subdued the city of Messina, and his knights saved his sister. Robin displayed tremendous courage in the salvation of Richard's young sister, and the King remembered that. Later Robin became the hero when Richard's troops captured Cyprus. After the late Head of the Guard had been killed in the battle of Limassol, Robin was appointed the Captain of the King's Private. By now, he headed the Guard for over four years, and the King never regretted his appointment.

Robin's numerous acts of heroism didn't give him calm sleep. His feats involved killing many people for the King and the so-called glory of God, which Robin doubted in the past years. He had glory without peaceful sleep. He dreamed of coming back home to Locksley, to England, and to his Marian. But every nightmare reminded him that he was still in the Holy Land, trapped in a hideous land, a Godless universe of indiscriminate blood and death.

He started hating the Holy Land on the third year of the Crusade as all the thoughts about glory evaporated from his young idealistic mind – there was nothing holy in their cruel and pointless butchering of the Saracens. Robin hated the dark-skinned people, the King's enemies, and whom he killed out of duty to his sovereign. He barely tolerated the smells of blood and rotting bodies. He loathed the heat in the day and the cold in the night.

Robin dreamed of England. He left his home as a boy, many years ago, and now he was a man. He got accustomed to living in the desert, but he hated that. He longed for dampness, humidity, forests, and rivers in England. He imagined Sherwood, a plenty of green trees, and green grass. He imagined Locksley Manor and quiet evenings near the pond and with his villagers.

He often remembered her face, Marian's beloved face, her beautiful facial features, her bright smile, her shimmering blue eyes, her slender arms and well-curved figure, and it gave him comfort and strength to get up next morning and continue his service to the King. He rarely saw Marian's face in dreams, and if that happened, her face was not smiling at him – it was screwed up in disgust as she reprimanded the man in front of her for killing and massacring, for leaving her and choosing glory over love for her. Blood and death were always in his dreams.

§§§

This night was like many others. Robin was very tired, but physical exhaustion didn't mean good sleep if his soul was so much troubled. He dreamed of blood and death, seeing his bow and sword in blood and himself in his wide Crusader's tunic drenched in blood of the people he killed. He heard cries and screams. He heard everything as clear as he did in his waking hours. Robin moved his tired body and brushed his palm across his forehead. Then he stretched his body across the soft sheets and drew a deep breath in his sleep, his arms at his sides.

Robin stiffened, his facial muscles tightened. There was an all-pervading clash of metal upon metal somewhere in distance. The screams of wounded and dying men were muffled to his ear. Swords crossed, and people screamed again. Metallic sound was becoming louder and louder, as though someone had been fighting near his tent.

Robin stirred and took another deep breath. He could swear that he wasn't dreaming. The pale blue eyes flung wide-open; his heart skipped a beat and then pounded harder and harder. Robin awoke and stared at the ceiling of his tent. He strained his ears and heard the same murderous hiss of steel against steel as the soldiers fought outside. He didn't dream.

Despite the ceasefire, the Crusaders were attacked. Why the attack was so sudden and how it was undetected in advance, Robin didn't know, and it didn't matter at that moment. The King's life was in danger, and he had to protect his lord and sovereign.

Robin swiftly jumped to his feet and looked into the inky darkness, assessing the threat the Saracen raid could pose. At a first glance, there were not many intruders, and they could be easily defeated. He gripped his bow and a bundle of arrows, his sword on his waist, and prepared to defend the King.

"Much! Much!" Robin cried out, trying to awake his squire. "Saracen raid! The King is under attack! Much!"

He went outside his tent and noticed several other Crusaders who had already been involved in the fierce swordfight with the Saracens. He took several noiseless steps and found a suitable place. His footsteps on the sand were noiseless. He paused and crouched, then fired an arrow. One Saracen fell. He released another arrow again, and one more enemy was dead. With deadly accuracy, the third and the fourth arrows struck the assassins in their necks, and they dropped dead. Robin grinned, pleased with the results of his work.

All at once, Captain Locksley felt a hand land on his left shoulder. He didn't turn around, thinking that Much had come to him to protect his back. Then the violent pain shot in his left side as cold edge of the curved blade cut his skin and deeply sliced through his ribs. The wound throbbed in acute pain, and he screamed in agony. Robin couldn't breathe and gasped for air, but it was so heavy that it was impossible to inhale or exhale.

He felt lightheaded, tormented by the wild death-writhe against his left side and back. Through the mist enveloping him, he saw the crimson, thick blood slipping out of his body. He was sure that the wound could have been fatal and he would die today. He grimaced and tried to move, but his knees buckled, and he fell on the sand, lying there helpless and motionless.

His brain worked. It meant nothing that he was wounded if the King was attacked. The assassin got away from him, and he was a threat to the King's life.

The Captain of the Private Guard gritted his teeth and forced himself to look around. His hand found his bow, and he lifted it, with a quiet groan. He clenched his jaw and nocked one arrow, but it missed its aim and flew near the assassin's face.

Startled from an unexpected attack, the Saracen warrior stopped rooted and ran his eyes across the camp. Robin could swear that their eyes locked for an instance, and then the assassin's tall dark figure moved to the King's tent. He killed two guards near the tent and rushed inside.

Robin panicked. His heart missed a beat and started hammering harder to compensate for the massive blood loss. He let the Saracen get away, and he felt guilty – it was unjustifiable for in his opinion. The King's life was in danger. He had to protect the King, get help, and kill the assassin.

He heard Much's anguished cries as his squire rushed to him and kneeled to him to inspect his Master's injury. They had no time for that now – the King was their first priority.

"Master! Master!" Much shouted.

"Go, get help, the King's tent," Robin muttered. He half begged, half ordered. With all will power, he disregarded pain and scrambled to his feet, pushing Much away and signaling him to leave and warn others about the attack.

Much didn't move. He paused at loss, unsure what to do. He wanted to help Robin because he saw blood on Robin's white tunic and on the sand, but his Master wished him to leave.

"Go! Much, go!" Robin bawled out in a harsh tone. He sighed with relief as Much got on his wheels and started running in the camp with a loud cry of alarm.

He barely cast a glance at two dead bodies of the guards and got into the King's tent. The picture before him made his blood run cold: the Saracen would-be assassin of King Richard stood above the King's sleeping figure, with a sword in his arm, ready to strike a fatal blow.

Robin raced towards the King's bed. "Your Majesty!" he squealed.

At the sound of Robin's voice, the assassin turned his head and looked at the King's savior. What Robin didn't know was that the assassin was the masked Saracen, in reality – Sir Guy of Gisborne, the drop-dead gorgeous Master-at-arms of Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham, the acting overlord of Locksley Manor in Robin's absence, and a landless knight in its true sense. Robin also didn't know who the Black Knights were and why they wanted to kill his King.

In a second, Robin of Locksley was already near Guy of Gisborne. Robin swung his curved sword at Guy, trying to draw him away from the King. Hoping that he would have enough strength to fight until other Crusaders came, Robin lunged, ducked, and parried, attacking with expert wide and corner blows and driving the opponent deeper into the tent.

Now Robin was attacking his sworn enemy who could have become his stepbrother many years ago. If Robin had known the truth, he would have been shocked to the marrow of his bones.

Streaks of sharp pain shot through his left side, stomach, and back as Robin moved, but he didn't care and fought, neglecting pain. He fought for King's life, and it was more important than his own wound. His mind was clear and focused: he had to seriously wound or kill the Saracen to save his King. Every blow sucked more and more strength from him, but he kept fighting. He was still losing blood, though at a slower pace.

Gisborne blocked Robin's blows and parried. He was very astonished. He silently cursed over and over again. Locksley didn't suffer from the lack of purely knightly complexion and from his injury. He seemed to be mad or Achillean with his Saracen curved scimitar, flashing silver in his arm.

As Robin continued shoving him of the King with every assault, Gisborne began to believe that Locksley, even though he was bleeding and injured, wouldn't let him take the Lionheart's life or flee if the Crusaders emerged in the tent or the King himself rose from the bed. He was angry because he had obviously underestimated Robin of Locksley.

§§§

Gisborne knew about Locksley's reputation in the Holy Land. Vaisey's Turkish allies advised Guy to kill the brave Captain Locksley before the raid to make the regicide easier to be committed. Before the raid, Guy decided that he wouldn't try to find Locksley on purpose because he would have a little time to murder the King and then flee. He wanted Robin to die, but it was no time and place for that. He had to kill the King. Locksley could wait – these were his initial thoughts.

Gisborne saw Locksley in Acre a week ago. One of the treacherous Crusaders showed Robin to him. Robin and several other Crusaders – the King's guards – stood on the opposite side of the narrow street of Acre, laughing and smiling. Robin's pose was lazy, if not pompous. As Guy scanned Locksley from top to toe, he distasted each and every feature of his enemy's face. He could think only of the burnt Gisborne manor and the years of poverty in France after Guy and Isabella, his sister, had been banished from Locksley. The plans of cruel revenge on Robin formed in his mind. Locksley had to die at his blade sooner or later.

Guy immediately recognized the grown-up Lord Locksley. It wasn't difficult, although many years passed since their last meeting – the day when their parents died in the fire. Guy remembered very well Locksley as a child: Robin was the skinny boy with hair of dark sand color and almond-shaped, pale blue eyes. Robin grew up, changed, and matured, but his face didn't lose its boyish features, which became clear as soon as Robin's face broke into a familiar cheeky grin. The devilish imps of mischief danced in Locksley's blue eyes. Robin's grins and mischief had irritated Guy since their childhood. Robin was handsome and had devilish charm, to Guy's displeasure. Nothing changed: Robin had been a true charmer since childhood.

Robin's good-looking, charming appearance undoubtedly attracted many women. Guy nicknamed Robin a swaggerer because of his charm, top-loftiness, and highhat manners. He understood that Marian could have been easily swept over by Robin's charms. Guy also was very handsome – brutally and darkly handsome, but he was cold, reserved, and detached. He definitely attracted attention of many women, but he didn't have Robin's charm and outgoing personality, which made it easy for people to like Locksley.

After the first meeting with Locksley, Gisborne rejoiced that Robin didn't have a standard knightly complexion. In contrast to Robin, Guy was taller and stronger. He was slender, not lean like Robin. His large, muscular frame and broad shoulders made his blows with sword so strong that they were deadly for his opponents. Gisborne was glad that Locksley looked a weaker rival in a fight. Guy would be able to kill him easily.

Gisborne wondered how Locksley could have had the reputation of the brave Captain Locksley whom the Saracens feared so much. He snapped that Robin's glory on the battlefield had been highly exaggerated. He even said that King Richard had promoted Locksley's courageous and fearless reputation because Robin had been his grand favorite. Guy smirked that Robin had a physical complexion of a courtier, not of a knight. However, Vaisey's spy from the camp laughed at Guy at the top of his lungs and warned him that Locksley would be the most dangerous rival in any fight. As he was fighting with Locksley in the King's tent, Guy believed the Crusader and repented that he had doubted his words before.

Gisborne didn't know whether he would be able to kill Locksley in the attack. He kept it in mind, but wasn't focused on that. He assumed that he would deal with Locksley after the King's death.

During the attack, Gisborne discovered an archer in a distance. He accidently found Robin of Locksley who was shooting arrows at Guy's accomplices, killing them one by one. Rage simmered in Guy's blood. His mind was made up: he decided to kill King Richard and Robin, symbolically, on the same night. His heart fluttered at the thought of the King and his favorite's deaths. Locksley was alone, only with his bow, he didn't see Guy, and it was Guy's chance. Blood-lust blinded him.

Guy moved on the sand as noiselessly as a panther in the darkness, approaching Robin from the back. He reached him and put a hand on his shoulder. Then he plunged his sword into Robin's left side, and Locksley dropped dead. The injury looked like fatal, and Guy rejoiced and went to the King's tent. He thought that he had killed Locksley.

But Gisborne was mistaken. Providence saved Locksley from immediate death at Gisborne's hand, and now Guy had to fight with his enemy again, all the more in the King's tent. Guy was shocked that Robin had been still alive. It was an unexpected twist of fate.

Guy was a highly skilled knight and won many tournaments in France and England. Nevertheless, he reluctantly acknowledged that Locksley frightened him in a fight. Robin easily tricked and misled Guy regarding his next lunge or blow, and it infuriated him. He was shocked when Robin appeared in the tent and started fighting like a madman, as though he hadn't been injured. Never before had Guy dealt with such an adroit, resolute, and skilled swordsman, capable of fighting for his King even with a fatal wound. Guy realized why Locksley's sword fighting style was so dangerous and was brought to his attention by Vaisey's Muslim allies.

Guy wondered how Robin's passionate desire to save King Richard might have been stronger than his own desire to kill the same man. Was loyalty to the King driving Robin so insane that he was able to fight, tolerating terrible pain and continuous bleeding? The most astonishing thing was that Locksley had been fighting without any self-preservation. Guy wondered whether Robin hadn't cared for himself, but only for the life of his previous King.

In spite of being lighter and physically weaker than Gisborne, Locksley was one of the most difficult opponents Guy had ever encountered. Robin had what Guy didn't possess – tremendous agility, crazy bravery, rare foolhardiness, and a unique sword fighting style. It might have seemed that Robin fought with a kind of scrappiness as his rival might have viewed his blows and lunges unpredictable and unsystematic. However, an experienced knight, like Guy, could have realized that the perceived scrappiness had been nothing more than the specific feature of Locksley's own fighting style – fierce and graceful, dangerous and harsh. Guy suspected that Robin had adjusted the standard fighting skills, which he had learnt as a knight, to himself to compensate him for his smaller size and less strength than some other knights had.

Robin possessed masterful swordsmanship with a curved sword. Guy wasn't as proficient with a Saracen scimitar as Locksley had become due to his constant fighting with the Turks. If he could have used a broadsword he normally used in England and France, Guy would have been a much better fighter. But they couldn't have used European weapon if they had wanted to mislead who had actually killed King Richard, masking their true plot. The King of England had to be killed by the Saracens, not by his own countrymen.

§§§

Gisborne lunged forward, aiming to slice down hard at Locksley's head. Robin ducked and hesitated for a moment as a new wave of pain stole through his veins.

Time was passing, but Guy still didn't corner Robin. He seriously thought of simply fleeing and saving his own life. Guy used the chance and tried to pass to the back exit from the tent, so as he could escape. It was convenient as they were almost in the corner.

Guy couldn't predict what would happen next. Gritting his teeth, Robin advanced forward and grabbed Guy's right arm. Robin swung his sword and made a deep cut on the enemy's forearm. Through the tatters of the torn sleeve, Robin caught a glimpse of a highly stylized tattoo – a black wolf tattoo. Guy yelled in pain and backed away.

Fueled by hatred and desire to repay for the made cut, the masked Saracen lunged at Robin, wishing to punish his annoying opponent, end the fight, and run away. Robin looked weaker and weaker, and Guy intended to use that.

Gisborne failed. Locksley parried a blow with less strength than before, staggered back and began falling, but he knew how to use it up to his advantage. Robin gripped Gisborne's arm and pushed himself up to Guy's body. Guy had no understanding of Robin's tactic. Perhaps, Locksley didn't want to fall and instinctively used Guy to support himself, he speculated.

But Locksley had a plan – to wound Guy in a rather close embrace, in the most cunning fashion, by tricking him and catching him off-guard. He planned to use a parallel deadly combination of deceptive movements and a finishing strike. While pushing his body to Guy's, Robin wrapped his left arm around half of Guy's back as though to support himself. Momentarily, Robin raised his scimitar up and sliced it into Guy's right side through his ribs, twisting the tip of the blade into his flesh and leaving it inside.

Guy didn't see the direction of the blade and couldn't anticipate Robin's trick. He bellowed in pain, his sword slipped from his arm – he was eventually disarmed.

It was one of Captain Locksley's last-resort sword assaults – a swift flick-fast sword-lunge with a blade twist, killing or harshly wounding an opponent during the improvised and premeditated fall. Guy didn't fail to notice the quality of the latest blow: Robin was deadly with sword without any exaggeration, at least with a scimitar.

The blade remained between the two men for a while. They were so close that they felt the heat radiating from their bodies. In fact, they were in a semblance of a lethal embrace.

After Robin had stabbed Guy, their faces were inches away as they froze in an embrace. Their eyes met shortly. Robin's pale blue eyes looked into Guy's steel blue orbs. They shuddered in awe and trepidation. Robin gasped as he saw Guy's eyes, his gaze direct, hateful, and cold. Guy's gaze was so hateful that Robin's hands had trembled before he had a hold over his nerves. There were murderous hatred and morbid loathing in that gaze, and it puzzled Robin.

Robin was on the verge of physical collapse, but his mind was clear. He still didn't lose all his vigilance he had trained during the years of his service in the Private Guard. The realization struck him that he had already seen those eyes somewhere before, a long time ago. The air around the Saracen was permeated with familiarity, even if his face was hidden, Robin thought.

Robin shook his head. He couldn't have met the assassin before. Interestingly, the dark-skinned Saracens most often had brown or black eyes; blue eyes were a rare feature for the Saracens. But the Saracen had blue eyes, eyes of rare color for the Turks! And Robin suddenly thought that he had already seen those eyes somewhere else. Was it an illusion or truth? Was he going mad? He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Gisborne still held Robin's gaze. He gasped for air as pain slashed through his body. He drew a shallow breath, but he couldn't exhale and coughed. He was in horrific pain. Besides, the blade was still inside as Robin not only plunged, but also twisted it into his flesh to ensure the opponent's demise and increase his suffering.

Gisborne was shocked to the core with his sudden proximity to Robin, the mighty Lord of Locksley and the Earl of Huntington, whom he had hated for so long, and now he was finally staring into his blue eyes of paler hue than his orbs. Curiously, Locksley's gaze wasn't haughty and mocking, but lost, unfocused, and perplexed.

For many years, Guy's tortured mind invented the scenes of his first face-to-face meeting with the grown-up, arrogant, spoiled son of Malcolm of Locksley. But he had never imagined that he would have to face Robin in the King's tent after the failed regicide, both of them badly wounded. Never had he thought that Locksley would again cause his plight.

Guy was caught in the fire of zealotry. Devil was laughing at him: he was doomed to be brought down by Locksley twice in his life. Robin of Locksley became not only his sworn enemy, but also his most frightful nightmare.

Having realized that he had stabbed and disarmed the disguised Saracen, Robin sighed with relief. His wound throbbed in pain again, and his left hand clutched his left side. He retrieved the sword from the Saracen's body, causing a man to make a loud groan. Too weak to hold it, Robin let the sword slip from his grip, and it fell on the ground.

Now they both were weaponless. Then both Robin and Guy dropped to their knees and froze.

Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne were exhausted and wounded by one another. The fight was over. The blood of the King's savior and the King's wound-be murderer mingled in the single crimson river of blood.

§§§

"Robin!" Robin and Guy heard so close to them, their eyes still locked. "Stop them!"

A group of the Crusaders stood near Robin and the Saracen. It became lighter around as the Crusaders had candles in their arms. They were armed, unsheathed swords in their arms. Their faces wore unemotional, neutral, or confused expressions. They all stared at Robin and the assassin. As Robin and the Saracen froze in what looked like a semblance of an embrace, it was unclear who was more seriously wounded.

Guy of Gisborne turned his head, and his eyes widened as he saw a relatively young, tall man of fair complexion and huge height, with a head full of red-gold hair. His skin was pale, his shoulders – broad and muscular. His posture was majestic and regal. He was undeniably handsome. His blue eyes pierced the wounded knight and the assassin. His face was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched and his lips thinned. Guy thought that the man was very angry at the scene of the finished bloody fight. Guy noticed that the man's fingers were covered with many silver and gold jeweled rings. Guy swallowed hard as he realized that the man should have been King Richard the Lionheart, or Richard the First of England.

The King stood near Robin and Guy, surrounded by a group of guards and soldiers. The Lionheart was unscathed and fully awake. He held a sword up in his right arm. He wore a crimson velvet mantle with a high collar over a simple tunic of dazzling white color. It was apparent that he had just risen from the bed and hastily put on his mantle. Even without his armory and the Crusader's tunic, Richard truly looked like a great warrior.

Gisborne had never been so scared. His body shook in fear and pain. In the Holy Land, Vaisey's accomplices told Guy that the mere sight of the Lionheart, the greatest among all warriors and the bravest of all the Christian Kings, mounted on his powerful war horse, was quite enough to make the Turks flee. Now Richard wasn't on his horse, but it didn't matter. Guy was ready to flee even at the sight of Richard's unemotional face and hateful, angry glance that pierced him to the core, to his heart, sending strong waves of dread through his body.

Near the King of England, Gisborne saw several other people whom he recognized. One of them was the treacherous Crusader who helped Guy organize the Saracen raid and procured that the raid would be undetected. The King's traitor showed no sign of understanding what happened in the royal tent. Their eyes met for the shortest instance, and Guy saw pure loathing there. Of course, the crafty and evil man looked at him as though he had been the usual Saracen, the King's potential killer, although he knew well who Guy was in reality.

Guy also recognized another man. He was a young, green-eyed, dark-haired man of an average height and stern, cold handsomeness. He was the well-known Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester and the Captain of the Second Guard. Robert was the King's another grand favorite, as well as Locksley's good friend and companion.

Guy was aware that King held Locksley and Leicester in the highest favor. They were the King's grand favorites. Locksley and Leicester were the two people who would willingly die the first for King Richard and sacrifice everything they had for the monarch's life.

Vaisey's allies warned him that Leicester could have been an exceptionally dangerous, strong enemy if he had met him during the attack. Guy had no doubt in Leicester's fighting skills: he himself fought with Robert on the tournament in France, and they ended in a draw while Guy usually won. Leicester was a great warrior, deadly with sword and very good with bow. His archery skills were not as perfect as Robin's, but he never missed his aim at a medium distance. Unlike Robin, he couldn't kill an enemy with closed eyes.

Not wishing to look at the Crusaders, Guy turned his head and glanced into Robin's eyes. Locksley was silent; his face screwed up in pain. Guy noticed that Robin gritted his teeth not to groan. Robin's gaze turned more unfocused, and it seemed that he didn't see Guy. Guy was sure that Robin wasn't aware that they were not alone in the tent.

Robert, the Earl of Leicester, stared at Robin and the Saracen. His eyes were shooting daggers. He was furious. "Damn Saracens! Damn them!"

"Captain Locksley!" King Richard called, his voice thick with undeniable anxiety. "Robin!" His favorite knight's current predicament stroke a damp into his heart.

Inside the tent, hot, crimson, sticky, blood was everywhere on the ground. There were many blood traces – bloody threads on the ground, forming narrow paths from the King's bed to the corner of the tent, where Robin and the Saracen fell. It was Robin's fresh blood. These paths were the symbols of the King's sacred life and death and the price for his life. The large pool of the Saracen's blood was in the area where Robin injured him.

"Robin! Robin!" Sir James of Kent, the second-in-command to the Captain of the Private Guard, cried out. "Oh, no," he whispered as he saw blood beneath Robin's corpse.

Leicester shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't recall when he saw so much blood after one-to-one fight last time. "Holy mother of God! So much blood! Whose blood is it?"

"I don't know." James pursed his lips.

"I don't want to know." Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, shook his head in shock.

"I hope it is not Robin's blood," Sir Roger of Stoke spoke.

Aubrey de Vere and Roger of Stoke were among King Richard's favorite, entrusted soldiers.

"Oh God! Not Robin!" Sir Legrand de le Vielleuze was at loss in shock. He was the fearless Crusader from Normandy, also in Richard's high regard.

With difficulty, Robin turned his head and blinked as he saw the King and others. He inclined his head and saw a river of blood that sparkled red in the semidarkness, glistening and malevolent, like a congealed drop of devil's blood. He was appalled how much blood he lost. He moved his body, trying to crawl away from the Saracen. With a loud groan, he fell to the ground.

The guards examined the tent, and it became clear that the assassin had been seriously wounded by Robin in a fight. The threat for the King's life was neutralized.

"Robin defeated the assassin," Sir James of Kent reported.

"Detain him," King Richard said coldly, his eyes stopping for a moment on the assassin. He gave Guy a gaze full of rampage and contempt.

"A moment, sire." James bowed and headed to the assassin.

At the same moment, Much opened the flap of the King's tent and entered. His lips parted. A cry of dread resonated as he stared at the picture in front of him. "Master! No! No! No!" he blubbered. He blanched.

"Much! Don't scream!" Robert, the Earl of Leicester, reprimanded. They had enough trouble on their hands and didn't need to soothe a hysterical man.

"It cannot be… My Master is wounded… So much blood… He is so skinny to have so much blood in his body…" Much was horror-stricken and terrified.

Accustomed to bloodshed, Much usually controlled his emotions. He fought skillfully and saved Robin's life many times since they had joined the Crusade. The squire killed many Saracens in the battles or on Robin's secret missions, like assassinations of Saladin's generals, or spying for Richard in a certain town or a village. He got accustomed to carnage, screams of wounded and dying men, and flame-colored sand drenched in crimson blood – they were an everlasting part of their lives for five years in Palestine.

Much was heartbroken, beyond any grief because it was Robin who was injured, not any other soldier. Too tender to see his beloved Master fatally injured, his heart drummed against his rib cage and froze in fear at the sight of Robin's motionless body on the ground.

"Restrain him." Richard's eyes were at Much.

"Much, wait. Make one movement towards Robin, and we will take you away," Robert prevised. His arm encircled the squire's waist. "Stay here," he whispered into his ear.

"I must go to my Master! He needs me!" Much persisted.

"Much! Silence! Wait here," Robert reiterated in a higher voice. "Robin doesn't need you now. He needs a physician, not you."

"But… but… Lord Leicester! My Master… Robin is here!" Much stuttered.

"Shut up, Much," Robert thundered. He signaled the guards to hold Much. "Take him away. Don't let him be here. Not now."

Two guards approached the squire and led him away from the tent by force.

* * *

Hope you liked it.

Who is Vaisey's spy in the King's camp? How do you think?

Please read and review. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Here we go. It is another chapter. Here Robin's wounds are tended. Robin is barely alive, but clings to life. Guy is imprisoned and also treated by the physician. What will happen next?

I would like to thank Amaranthe Athenais for mapping out the scenes and her help with writing. Reviews are very welcome! Thank you!

Of course, I don't own Robin Hood BBC and the heroes. Some heroes, like King Richard's favorites, are introduced by myself. Thanks to Amaranthe Athenais for historical information about King Richard the Lionheart's entourage.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Utter failure in Acre**

Sir James of Kent, the second-in-command to the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard, ordered to surround and shackle the Saracen assassin. They couldn't risk and allow him to be close to the King of England, especially knowing that Richard would want to be near Robin.

Gisborne sneered as he heard the King's orders. It was what he expected. It was his death. Gisborne was cornered. There was no way to run away from the Crusaders. He was injured twice, and the King's soldiers were near him. He was surrounded by the enemies.

Gisborne was very weak and badly injured. He was losing blood from his two open wounds. He felt the same as Locksley – dizziness, weakness, and pain. He stupidly stared at the Crusaders, fussing over Locksley. He heard the King's sharp commands in French. He sneered that the King was so worried for his favorite. All his strength washed out, and he finally let his large frame drop on the ground. He no longer could remain in a sitting position.

Several guards approached Guy. As they surrounded him and he couldn't see Locksley, somebody kneeled to him and examined his injuries. He uttered a low groan with the first touch of calloused hands at his flesh. The blood surged to his cheeks, and his face turned red under his Saracen's mask. He was grateful that he wore that inconvenient mask for the purpose of disguise.

The guards roughly grabbed him at his shoulders and forced him to his feet. They chained his wrists and legs. He tried to struggle, but he was outnumbered and too weak. Unable to resist his captors, he moaned and closed his eyes.

Guy cursed in his mind that he had agreed to assassinate the King of England and traveled to the Holy Land. He cursed Vaisey that he had nominated him to be a would-be killer of King Richard. He cursed that he didn't kill Robin of Locksley at the first attempt when he accidently stumbled into him near the King's tent. He hated Locksley more than he had ever hated someone else.

Gisborne utterly failed his mission in Acre. He was defeated by Locksley. He, the masked "Saracen", was not only at the King's mercy, but also under Locksley's control. Robin was the Head of the Private Guard, and if he had recovered from his injury, he would be responsible for Guy's interrogation and, probably, even torture.

In the Holy Land, Guy had heard that the Private Guard had always cruelly tortured the captured assassins, and he half imagined Locksley's smug and smiling face as he put Guy to the rack and watched him in pain and agony. Guy handed himself to his worst enemy, and he dreaded the confrontation with him. It would have been better if Locksley had died from his wound.

His life was ruined. All his hopes and dreams were shattered. All was done for nothing. The outcome of the regicide attempt was the most grievous: Guy failed to kill the monarch and was captured by the King's soldiers. Even if he had survived and somehow had escaped later, the Black Knights would have never trusted him again. He lost his chance to be in Prince John's favor after his capture.

Guy could see Vaisey's furious face and hear him yelling and insulting Gisborne's mental abilities and fighting skills. Vaisey would have called him a looser and a pathetic weakling, a good-for-nothing, incompetent man. However, Guy wouldn't have agreed with the Sheriff as Vaisey had never encountered Robin of Locksley. He had planned everything very well, but he still failed because of Locksley.

So many things would never happen. If he had killed Robin, he would have prospered and lived a long, happy life in Locksley. If Locksley had died, given the absence of male heirs in Robin's bloodline, Guy would have become the permanent Lord of Locksley and the only rightful Earl of Huntington. Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Earl of Huntington and the Lord of Locksley, sounded amazing for Guy's ears. He deserved that after everything what young Robin of Locksley and his shoddy father, Malcolm of Locksley, had done to the Gisbornes and personally to Guy.

The King's death would have brought Guy power and wealth beyond any measure. He craved to have absolute power and as much wealth as possible. All the Black Knights would feel in debt to him. When Prince John ascended the throne, he would become his closest friend and royal favorite, like Locksley was King Richard's favorite. He would have become King John's most entrusted servant. Now his dreams were ruined.

If Locksley had died, Guy would have been able to marry Lady Marian of Knighton, even if the Lionheart could have been still alive. He had been trying to court Marian for quite some time, but she was not fond of his company and didn't seem to be interested in a marriage at all, and Guy suspected that she had still loved Robin of Locksley.

Locksley's death was important to make Lady Marian more prone to his advances. If she waited for Locksley's return from the war, she would have to wait forever. Guy liked Marian: she was a beautiful young lady with an old, proud family name and would be a good wife to continue the Gisborne line. If he had married Marian, Robin's former betrothed, his revenge on Locksley would have been completed.

Now his long-nurtured dreams would never be realized. It was all Locksley's fault. Robin of Locksley was Guy of Gisborne's angel of death and his tormentor. His demise was Locksley's fault. He attributed all his suffering he endured in his life to Locksley. Robin should have died in the Holy Land before Guy had decided to travel there. The King's favorite should have been stabbed by the Saracens, dying on the spot or bleeding to death, and his body should have perished in the desert. But Locksley was alive, and the man's invincibility infuriated Guy.

Gisborne was happy that he had at least wounded Locksley. Guy wished Locksley to die from his wound. It would have been fair to the bastard if Robin had died at Guy's hand. At least both Locksley and he, Gisborne, would die in Acre and would be buried in the desert sand.

What future could Gisborne hope for? Would he be executed or pardoned by the King of England? The latter seemed unreal. Acre was likely to be the last place on Earth he stepped on. The sand threatened to become his tomb. The finale would be shame on his name and painful death for high treason, unless he fled or found another way to keep his life by cooperating with the King of England. But what could he do? King Richard was an unforgiving and ruthless ruler, and he was unlikely to let him live. Richard would be eminently vengeful because Guy had not only tried to kill him, but also had severely injured the King's grand favorite.

The bold Captain Locksley, obsessed with honor and loyalty, was known to heavily punish and mercilessly persecute the King's would-be assassins and traitors to the crown. The treacherous Crusader, Vaisey's spy in the camp, had told Guy that Locksley as the Captain of the Private Guard had often presided on the trials of traitors and assassins and that he had never executed prisoners himself.

Guy had laughed that Robin had been so feared by the Saracens, but was still known as the Crusader with humanity. He had heard that Robin hadn't approved of massacres and had distasted even witnessing executions of traitors and assassins. Guy thought that it was Robin's weakness because, in Guy's view, humanity made a man weak and vulnerable.

Regicide was a grievous crime, and Guy could expect Locksley to sentence him to the most brutal punishment – to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Then his corpse would be buried in the desert, in an unmarked grave, or would be burned to ashes and dispersed in the wind. He would appreciate beheading or hanging in his case, but he doubted that Locksley and all the Crusaders would be merciful to the man who attempted regicide and injured their Captain.

If Locksley had lived, he would have taken his revenge on Guy for attempting to take Richard's life. Guy imagined how Robin would announce his sentence at the trial. It would be the most amusing. Guy was like a dead man. Maybe it would have been better if he had died from his wounds, he thought.

Guy opened his eyes and looked at the somber faces of the Crusaders above him. He was carried somewhere, out of the King's tent. The chilly night air made Guy feel tingles down his spine. The guards were silent and rude with their prisoner. They didn't care that their rough hands hurt Guy's wounds, causing him unbearable pain.

Guy moaned in pain at the pressure of their hands on his skin, but they didn't react. The chains caused him great pain, and he bit his lips not to give a wild cry. Of course, he couldn't hope for the better treatment: the guards were loyal to the King, while he almost committed regicide and wounded their Captain. He was their bitter enemy.

One of the guards announced that the King had ordered to throw the assassin into the cell. Guy winced at his words and swore an oath in his mind. He was supposed to be imprisoned even in his miserable condition, whereas Locksley would be treated by the King's personal physician and would rest in a warm bed. It was unfair. He hoped that at least he would be attended by the physician, but he wasn't sure in that. At another side, they would soon discover that he wasn't the Saracen, and it would make them keep him alive with the purpose to finally interrogate him. His disguise and deception bought him time.

Maybe Vaisey's spy in the camp, the treacherous and cunning Crusader, would find a way to save him, Guy dreamed. He saw him among the Crusaders in the King's tent. The hope was vague, but he still hoped against any hope that maybe that man would have found a way to get him out of the King's tent and Acre.

Soon they stopped near the building and entered. Guy guessed that it was a prison. The guards opened the door, and they continued their way somewhere. Guy believed that soon he would see his new home – a damp cold cell where the Saracen assassins spent their last moments. Someone shouted to bring bandages and called for the second physician to attend the prisoner. Then Guy heard nothing else: darkness enveloped him, and he passed out.

§§§

After the assassin was removed from the King's tent, King Richard strode towards where Robin lay. Robert, the Earl of Leicester, and Roger of Stoke followed the King.

Richard's heart was beating faster and faster. He didn't remember when last time he was so worried. He feared that Robin would die. The death for the King was an honorable death, but it still was death. The lion wanted Robin to live.

The King knelt to Robin and raked his eyes down Robin's body. Robert and Roger also knelt down.

"Robin," the King called. His face was unreadable, but the sound of Robin's name was enough to realize that the King was deeply moved by the picture before his eyes.

They sighed with relief. They could see the shallow rise and fall of Robin's chest. He was breathing, clinging to life.

"He is alive," Robert said matter-of-factly.

"Barely alive," Roger stressed.

"He is wounded." Richard's eyes registered that blood was flowing out of Robin's body, and he inwardly winced. He had never seen Robin so brutally sliced.

"And grimly." Robert's voice was lugubrious.

"He is almost mortally, if not mortally, wounded," Richard verbalized what everyone feared to say. He stared at the guards. "Fetch the physician. Hurry up," he prompted. Then his gaze flew to Robin. "Hang on, lad. You must live," he addressed to Robin.

Robin's eyes were open, but he didn't hear what they discussed.

"Robin, my friend?" Robert uttered.

"Do you hear us?" Roger hoped to see any sign that Robin had seen them.

Richard sighed heavily. "He is too weak and in great pain to react."

The King was right as Robin felt as though he had been in the mist. He simply cast a short glance at the King, then at Robert and Roger. He blinked, but his vision was unclear as black spots danced in his eyes. His heart was beating to suffocation, as though bursting out of his basque. The adrenaline from the fight evaporated, and so did all his strength. His body turned limp, his head dizzy. He couldn't carry on anymore. He was so weak. Darkness descended and captured him, and he couldn't even think. He shut his eyes and passed out.

"He lost his consciousness," Robert commented.

"It is for the better," the King said flatly.

Roger nodded. "At least he is alive."

As they saw the physician hurrying to the King, the King rose to his feet. He signaled Matthew to approach him and spoke. "Help Robin."

Although the guards tried to restrict Much, they failed. He struggled with them and, having wrenched out of their grip, hurried to the King's tent. As he was inside and his gaze fell at Robin, the squire wailed. "Master…" he murmured.

Roger of Stoke walked to Much and grabbed his shoulders. "Much, stop it. If you want to be here, then calm down. Be quiet and wait."

"I am sorry… I…" Much stammered.

Roger's eyes met the King's. "Sire, should the guards take Much away?"

"No guards." Richard shook his head in denial. "If he wants to be here, let him be. He will just fight with the guards and run here again." His eyes flew to the squire. "Much, don't panic and make a scene. Otherwise you will be sorry," he said, his tone not so quite dulcet.

Much gave a slight nod. "Sire, I beg my pardon. Thank you."

The King glanced away. "Good."

"Better help us, Much," Robert admonished, his voice silky.

"But, Much, please no fuss," Roger warned.

One of the tables in the royal tent was empty, and King Richard ordered to put Robin there.

"Be careful as you carry him," the physician admonished.

"No worries. We are very gentle with Robin," Robert replied. "We must find where the wound is."

"Remove the clothes from the upper part of his body." The physician's voice sounded hoarse.

The Earl of Leicester, Sir James of Kent, and Roger of Stoke peeled off the layers of Robin's tunic from his upper body. All his clothing was sodden with blood. Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, and Sir Legrand de le Vielleuze sullenly stared at the Captain's prone body.

Much stood near the table, his eyes oozing with small teas. He did his best not to show his weakness, biting back tears. His palm was on his mouth, a gesture of despair and stress.

The physician, Robert, and James examined Robin's body, trying to find which wound was a source of so much blood. He raised Robin's left arm, and the raw red wound, the brutally torn flesh, on the left side came into picture. It was clear that it was deep to cause excessive bleeding.

"Captain Locksley is seriously injured on his left side," Matthew, the King's personal physician, declared in French.

Much's eyes betrayed his fear, his knees and hands were shaking. He had never seen Robin so weak and so vulnerable. "Is my Master's injury dangerous?" His voice was cracking.

The physician nodded. "Yes, it is."

King Richard sighed heavily before he spoke. "Can you save him?"

"I am not sure that Locksley will pull through," the physician opined. "The wound could be fatal. We have to cauterize it. He may not survive the process, but it must be done."

"Then do it," Richard said neutrally.

"Save him," Robert, James, Roger, Aubrey, and Legrand said in chorus.

"I will do what I can," Matthew pledged as his gaze shifted from the King to the other men. "I will need a clean knife, hot fire, a bowl of fresh water, and a plenty of bandages."

James, Roger, and Aubrey hurried to the medical tent to find a dagger and other tools. Much fetched a bowl of water, lit many candles, and followed all the instructions as they prepared Robin for the excruciating procedure.

The groan tumbled from Robin's lips, his eyes half opened. All the eyes were attached to Robin.

"Robin?" Aubrey, the Earl of Oxford, called.

"Master…" Much smiled, but his smile vanished as he heard another groan.

"It seems that he awoke," Legrand noticed.

"He is better to be unconscious during the procedure," Matthew snapped.

"King Richard… the King!" Robin cried out. He wished to learn about the King's fate.

The words were spoken loud enough to distinguish them. Driven by desire to talk to Robin even for the last time, Much took a step, but Robert and Roger embraced him about his shoulders.

"He wants the King," Roger pointed out. "Wait."

"I won't go there. It is just…" The squire blushed.

Roger clapped the squire's shoulder. "I know what you mean."

"Robin wants to know whether the King is safe," Much assumed.

"Most likely." Robert brushed his hand away from Much.

Roger nodded. "He always cares for the King the most."

King Richard approached the table where Robin lay. He took the knight's right hand in his and leaned down to the soldier. "Do you hear us, Robin?"

"My liege…" Robin drawled quietly. His eyes were foggy, he blinked.

The King smiled warmly. "We owe you our life, Captain Locksley. England owes you more. You saved our life many times. We are in huge debt to you."

As the golden-haired regal head bent down, his face inches away from Robin's, Lord Locksley recognized the King. Relief washed over him, but he had to check whether the King was unharmed. "Milord, you have no debt to me. Are you hurt?"

"We are unscratched," the King said with a large smile. "You will also be well."

"My life doesn't matter if you are safe." A chocked gasp emerged from his mouth.

"Oh, Robin…" Richard squeezed his hand, a gesture of genuine friendly affection.

It was both pleasant and painful for the King to hear that Robin, who was so vulnerable, suffered from pain, and was bleeding, cared for his King's safety and wellbeing so much. The Lionheart was outraged that the assassin had hurt his favorite knight so badly.

"The assassin has a black wolf tattoo on his right arm," Robin whispered.

The King patted Robin's hair. "You wounded him twice in a fight."

"I remember." Robin hardly had any strength to keep his eyes open and talk. His left side was like an open bleeding wound. But there was something he needed to tell the King. He swallowed hard and spoke. "He has steel blue eyes… There was so much hatred in his cold gaze… I felt it…. He may not be the Saracen."

"The Saracens hate us, the Christians. There should have been much hate in his eyes."

"Unmask him, sire," the Captain continued, the words rolling drudgingly from his tongue. "There was something strange in him." He coughed and winced in pain.

Richard heard the knight's quiet words only because his face was close to Robin's. Confused, he shook his head. He was unsure what to answer. "We will check."

Robin was sure that he was on the threshold of death. He had never felt so bad. Every movement and stretching of his muscles hurt him. Sharp throbbing pain ripped across his body, crashing down on top of his mind at lightning speed. His mind yanked from one to another direction, the reality fizzled and faded away from him, like smoke.

His wound was burning with hot fire. The heat was racing up his skin. The blood in his veins was boiling. He guessed whether infection and fever had started growing in his body, relentlessly destroying him. He felt as though he had been flying from high altitude into empty, dark abyss.

"Much… I love him. He is my best friend," Robin murmured. "Milord, I have no heirs. I beseech you to give all my estates to Much if I die. He deserves it. This is my last will."

"We will do it – you have my word. But we won't need it." Richard didn't know what else to say.

"If I die, please send my body… to England… I want to be buried in Locksley… with my parents." Robin's voice was cracking.

"Don't speak about death. You will live," Richard said steadily.

Robin saw Richard's face near his face. A faint smile stirred his lips. "We… we cannot control… death, sire." He swallowed hard. A quiet groan erupted from his lips. "If I die… I die a happy man… There is nothing… better than a death for your King."

The King's heart collapsed in his chest. He stroked Robin's hair, smoothing it off his forehead. His other hand held Robin's hand. "Thank you for everything, Robin."

Robin blinked, his vision blurred. "If I die, she won't know… that I still… love her… only her…" His breathing was labored and heavy. "Marian… Marian…"

"She will know, Robin." The King knew whom Robin meant. He remembered what Robin told him about Lady Marian, his ex-fiancée, who broke the engagement when he went to the Crusade.

It was an overdramatic moment for King Richard, a great warrior with a heart hardened in many battles and wars. Richard grieved that Robin had almost stepped with one leg into his tomb. He wanted Robin to recover. He was very grateful to him for everything he did for him. He thought that he would send a messenger to Lady Marian even if Robin had survived.

Robin didn't hear the King's last words. Numbness and lightheadedness entirely overcame him. He couldn't move and talk anymore. He shut his eyes and passed out.

The King sighed and stepped aside. At the same time, Aubrey, Roger, and James returned. Now they were ready to perform the brutal procedure to save Robin.

"You have to hold him," the doctor said, holding a dagger in his hand, which had already been heated up. "He might also have pain shock and body convulsions."

King Richard spun on his heel, leaving the tent with two guards, who waited near the entrance.

Robert, James, Roger, Much, and Legrand gripped all Robin's limbs to hold him during the cauterization. Roger and Legrand fixed and held Robin's legs, while James and Robert gripped his shoulders and held him. Aubrey silently watched observed. Much took Robin's right arm and squeezed it. James took his left hand. Others somberly observed.

At the touch of the heated dagger at the torn flesh, Robin gave a wild cry, and his body shook in agonizing convulsions. His hands were shaking as he squeezed Much and Robert's hands. To prevent Robin from biting his own tongue, they put a piece of wood into his mouth. They had to do the cauterization twice for the same wound as after the first time slight bleeding still persisted.

The cauterization sealed the torn blood vessels, and the bleeding finally stopped. Matthew immediately cleaned the wound, taking bandages and fresh water from Much's arms. Robin was still held by the Crusaders while cleaning was performed. Stitching the ugly looking wound took at least two hours: the doctor was very accurate and gentle, trying not to cause his patient more pain. When they were done with tending to Robin, it was already the early morning.

§§§

The Earl of Leicester found King Richard in his second tent. He reported that the physician had finished with Robin. Richard rose to his feet and strode towards another royal tent where he usually slept and where Robin saved him.

"We should carry Captain Locksley into his tent," Matthew said. "Be very careful. We cannot hurt him more and tear apart the stitches."

"Lord Locksley can rest there." The King looked at the spare cot in the opposite side of the tent.

"He will moan in pain and disturb you, milord," Matthew blurted out.

The King gave the doctor a cold glance. "Robin won't distract us. Soon we will move him to his tent. As you said, he must be treated with utmost caution and care to let his wound heal better."

The King nodded to Leicester and Leicester nodded back – a signal for action.

"As you command, milord," Robert intervened to finish an awkward argument.

The Crusaders weren't stunned. It was hardly a surprise for them: it wasn't the first time when Robin was left not in the medical tent or his own tent, but in the King's tent after Locksley had saved Richard's life. For Richard it was a simple act of gratitude, for others – a relief that the risk of any damage to the patient decreased.

"How is Robin now?" King Richard questioned.

The physician bowed to Richard. "The Earl of Huntington survived the cauterization. Actually, the situation is not as bad as it seemed from the beginning. It is a sheer luck that the blade missed his heart and lungs. Nevertheless, he may die from blood loss or infection."

"Will he have fever?" Robert asked.

"Yes, he will. He will be feverish soon," the physician confirmed.

"Is Robin in danger of infection?" Legrand's booming voice resonated.

Matthew's brows creased into a deep furrow. "Infection is already spreading in his body."

"Do something to stop it. You must help him," Roger fumed.

The physician shrugged. "I did everything I could to draw the infection away. I bandaged the wound. If he hadn't strained his body so much after he had been injured, he wouldn't have been so bad now." He trailed off, not daring to talk more in the King's presence. He stared at the King, embarrassed and frightened. "I beg my pardon, my liege. I speak out of turn," he told the King.

If Richard was displeased, he didn't show it. "You speak the truth. It is of no consequence."

A long, oppressing silence stretched between them.

Roger stared at Robin, who looked like ghost of a ghost, and it scared Roger. "Robin is so pale."

James rubbed his forehead to relieve a slight knot of tension. "Like a ghost."

"I have never seen our Captain so white," Aubrey agreed.

"Deathly pale," Legrand interjected.

"Lord Locksley is pale because he lost a great deal of blood." The physician cleared his throat. "Captain Locksley is a strong young man. He has excellent natural health. Yet, his injury is dangerous and he may not live through the night."

"Robin was stabbed inside the tent, in the fight," Legrand said, his eyes scanning the floor with pools of blood. "Did he indeed lose so much blood?"

The physician nodded. "Yes, he did."

"My Master wasn't injured during the fight," Much enlightened. "He was shooting arrows outside when he was stabbed from the back. He didn't see the assassin. When I came to him, he ordered me to raise alarm and get help to the King's tent. My Master forced himself to rise and ran here."

The King raised a brow. "Captain Locksley fought with this wound?" It was what he suspected.

Much gave a nod. "Yes, he did, milord."

"As always heroic," Legrand commented.

"Robin does incredible things," Robert said.

James half smiled. "I am not astonished because it is Robin."

"Robin is a unique man," Roger opined.

Richard let his lips curve ever so slightly. "Captain Locksley showed great courage and strength."

"My Master must live. He cannot die," Much whispered.

"Much, you love your Master so much?" Richard questioned mildly. His face was expressionless as he rarely gave his emotions free reign.

Much shook his head. "We grew up together. He is like my brother. I love him so much. If he dies, I will also die. I will do everything for him to recover. I am ready to give him my life."

Richard smiled. "He will live. He is a fighter and a survivor."

"Robin will be alright, Much," Robert allayed. "Soon he will be up, teasing and mocking you."

"Shutting you up," Legrand added.

James smiled. "Indeed."

Roger forced a smile. "Every day you will have to endure Robin's naughtiness, Much."

"Let him shut me up! Let him tease me! Let him beat me! Let him kill me!" Much prattled. "But let him live! He must live!"

Robert, who stood near Much, pulled Much into a short hug. "He will live," he said as he pulled away. "He will need you a lot. Calm down, Much." Then he stepped away.

"Who, if not you, will nurse him? Only you, Much, may tolerate him for more than his whole life," Aubrey said jestingly.

"He may be very infuriating," Robert agreed, a smile hovering over his lips.

"As well as very self-assured," Legrand interjected.

"Self-assured?" Roger raised a brow and broke into a soft laugh. "Always."

Aubrey grinned. "And it is not too bad."

"Robin is so full of himself." Robert rolled his eyes.

"And so are you, Lord Leicester," the King remarked, his eyes kind.

"I don't deny it, my liege." Robert smiled, his eyes glistening with imps of mischief. "I bet our men love Robin and me for our self-assurance and leadership the most. But Robin usually bosses more than I do, and the guards still love and praise him. If I want my men in the Second Column to love me more than they do, I will boss a lot more."

The Crusaders laughed at Leicester's joke. A faint smile tugged on the King's lips.

Much didn't laugh. Robin's sickness and helplessness made his heart gallop. He was concerned that he would have to leave his Master in the King's tent. He wanted to take care of Robin, like it always was. He was the only one who could nurse Robin back to heath. In their childhood, Much always nursed Robin when he was sick. Robin didn't thank him and took it for granted, but Much wasn't offended. He loved his Master and did everything to please him.

"I am sorry, but I don't want to leave my Master's side," Much declared, his eyes pleading.

The Crusaders smiled at Much. They were often irritated with his constant grumbling and babbling something about better food and climate. Like Robin, they often barked that he had to shut up. They also knew that he was a good man. They admired Much for his devotion and loyalty to Robin. It wasn't very common when a servant cared so much for his Master.

"Much, you have our permission to stay with Robin here. However, we don't need to have a crowd here. In a daytime, one of you may stay with Captain Locksley and Much. In the nighttime, only Much will be with Robin," the King announced. "Others may visit from time to time."

Much blushed. The King was truly a good man, he thought. Robin loved the King. The King loved Robin. Much loved Robin. Thus, Much loved the King. "Thank you, sire."

King Richard signaled the physician to approach him. The King wanted to talk to him in private. They stepped aside, to the corner of the tent.

Richard stared at the physician. His gaze was impenetrable, but the thin line of his lips revealed his tension. "Matthew, tell us the truth. Does Captain Locksley have a chance to survive?"

"Captain Locksley's condition is very bad. The situation is nearly grave, but not completely grave as I thought at the beginning," Matthew said mournfully. "Locksley lost too much blood. Fever and infection might take his life, but he has a slim chance to survive. But he might die even tonight. I have seen many men dying from less serious wounds." He emitted a heavy audible sigh. "I am sorry, milord. I did everything I could, but I am not God." He paused and bit his bottom lip. "I will pray for him, sire," he promised.

The King nodded. "Thank you for your candidness, Matthew."

King Richard was also going to pray for Robin's recovery.

§§§

Robin's suspicions were well-grounded. The King's would-be assassin turned out to be a disguised Christian man. As the upper part of the man's body was undressed by the physician to tend to his wounds, the color of his skin – pale, not swarthy or tanned – raised the first suspicions. Then the King came to the prison himself, requesting to remove the assassin's mask and mandril.

The revelation was shocking to say the least. The murderer was a tall, handsome man with pale skin, steel blue eyes, thick raven hair, broad shoulders, and muscular competition. He looked between thirty and thirty five years old. His facial features and soft skin on his hands betrayed his noble roots. They were clueless who he could be and why he tried to take the King's life. As the man was undressed, they had a chance to see that he was likely to be a knight as his chest was creased with old and new battle scars.

The masked "Saracen" lost much blood and was barely alive after Robin had repaid to him for the injury and injured him twice. The physician visited him: his wound on the forearm was cleaned and bandaged, whereas the deeply sliced cut on his right side was cauterized to save his life.

Afterwards, the man was placed on the straw bed in the cell in the prison that was the deserted building near the walls of Acre. He was wrapped in the warm blanket and was supplied with one pillow. The prisoner was heavily guarded by the King's men. Though he was unconscious, the assassin was still treated as a dangerous criminal: his wrists were chained, his legs were in iron legs, and a long chain around his neck was securely clasped to the stony wall near the bed. The King permitted the doctor to examine him once per day.

King Richard wished to keep the prisoner alive only because they needed to interrogate him after he had awoken. If he outlived his usefulness or if he refused to speak with or without torture, the King assumed to execute him for high treason. The torture wasn't supposed to be used until the assassin had fully recovered. If necessary, Richard was ready to wait until the assassin recovered; then he could have ordered to put him to the rack to force him to confess.

The King of England and the Crusaders were in the King's second tent. They had much to discuss. They had already seen the masked assassin and were as puzzled as Richard himself was.

"Milord, will the captured criminal live?" Robert, the Earl of Leicester, asked.

Richard sat in the high-back chair with luxurious red velvet upholstery. His eyes were at the maps on the table in front of him. He didn't look at the Crusaders.

"The disguised Saracen is gravely wounded. He might die from his injuries. He lost much blood and is already feverish. The physician did everything to save him." The King raised head. Everyone's eyes flew to the King who scrutinized the soldiers, his gaze hard. He sighed, suddenly feeling annoyed and slightly powerless. He wasn't comfortable with the situation they had to face. "This wretched man is better to live. We must learn who he is and why he wants me dead."

"We are lucky that Robin wounded him. We could have blamed Saladin for this raid," James said.

"Make sure the physician regularly tends to his wounds," Richard instructed James. "We must do everything to keep him alive. He cannot die before we interrogate him."

"I will take care of everything, my liege," James obeyed.

"James, you will lead the Private Guard as long as Robin is recovering. You have many things to do." The King's voice took a higher octave.

"I thank you, sire. It is a great honor." A brief smile crossed over James' face, then faded away.

"Legrand," the King began. "Make sure that the prisoner is heavily guarded. Two guards must always stay inside the cell, five men – outside the cell. We don't want him to flee when he feels better, if he survives." His voice was sharp.

Legrand inclined his head. "Yes, sire."

"Legrand, focus on guarding the prisoner. You are free from your other duties," the King added.

"My lord, I am at your service," Legrand told the King and bowed his head.

"Don't fail us, Legrand." Richard's tone was strangely nonchalant. Yet, there were apparent notes of warning and vitriol in his intonation. He hinted that if the assassin had somehow run away, they would have had to pay a high price for it.

Richard gestured with his chin for Aubrey and Roger. "Contact our spies in England and France. Gather detailed information about all the possible secret plots against us."

Roger nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"At your service," Aubrey joined.

"Roger, you will be dealing with England. We need a detailed report on my brother's activities," the King said. He was silent as he contemplated the situation. He tapped his chin and then glanced at the Earl of Oxford. "You, Aubrey, must contact our spies at King Philippe's court. The French might have had a finger in a pie." He paused and sighed. "We have heard alarming news from England. Longchamp lost his position of Lord Chancellor. As you all know, he has never been in John's favor. He was deposed and had to flee England in disguise."

William de Longchamp was Lord Chancellor and Chief Justicia in England. He enjoyed King Richard's trust and his highest favor, but was despised by Prince John. King Richard charged him with governorship of England while he was on the Third Crusade. However, his authority was challenged by Prince John, who succeeded in driving Longchamp from power and England.

A silence pressed over them. The King's announcement disheartened everyone.

"It doesn't look good," Roger said quietly. "But it is easy to explain."

Legrand's face fell at the news. "Poor Longchamp."

"We are not pleased with the news," the King continued. "Contact Longchamp. He should be in Normandy now. He may know something."

Aubrey nodded. "Longchamp can definitely help us."

The King narrowed his eyes. "Aubrey, we are sending you as a messenger to Normandy. You are leaving in two days." As he saw the Earl of Oxford's bewilderment, he proceeded to explain. "Longchamp has a complete picture about the situation in England. If there are any treacherous alliances in England, he surely knows about them. He also knows what is going on in France. We need him now."

"I understand, milord," Aubrey assured.

A smile worked up on Richard's face. "This is all for now." He waved his head, dismissing them.

The King of England's ire rose to the peak as he analyzed the situation. He had to deal with a sophisticated dilemma to find out who wished to take his life in Acre and why. Robin foiled the last regicide attempt, and they captured the Saracen, so that they can work to uncover the plot behind. Many Saracens tried to kill King Richard, and the Private Guard foiled their plots, but no European man dared to attempt an assassination of the King of England in the Holy Land.

The group of the Saracen assassins in the last raid included one masked "Saracen", whereas the rest of them were the real Saracens. The plot could have had its roots anywhere in Europe. The captured "Saracen" could have been sent by Richard's enemies – King Philippe of France, Duke Leopold of Austria, or even Prince John, his younger brother. The thought that Richard's own subjects could have tried to murder him was detestable and sent the King to the brink of his sanity. Richard had to consider all the options, and he didn't exclude that his younger brother could have weaved the plot against him.

King Richard's thoughts were also about Robin. He wished Robin to get better. He frantically prayed for Robin's recovery. Several times, Robin had nearly given his own life to save his King, and Richard would never forget about that. He couldn't lose Robin, his close friend, the most loyal subject and the most skillful soldier. He valued and loved him the most among his knights.

Before Robin's suspicions were confirmed, Richard had considered sending Robin back to England with commendation to speed up his recovery. Now he doubted that it was the right course of action. At first, they must have learnt who the disguised Saracen had been. The King had to decide how to investigate treacherous plots. If it had been the plot in England, it could have dramatically changed the situation and affected not only the King's safety, but also Robin's.

The recent Saracen raid had the unprecedented results. King Richard had to investigate unknown plots against him. Robin of Locksley was almost mortally wounded, but clung to life. The masked "Saracen" – Sir Guy of Gisborne – was severely injured as well, twice by Lord Locksley; he was captured by the Crusaders and kept alive for further interrogation.

Nobody knew that the Saracen raid had brought an old personal conflict into the light. Robin was about to meet the acting overlord of his lands in England, the Black Knight, and his sworn enemy since childhood. Robin and Guy had many unpleasant memorizes to share and many reasons to consider themselves sworn enemies. They were the King's loyal favorite and a king-killing traitor, and they had nothing in common, apart from their sad past. Yet, their paths intercepted in the most dramatic and unpredictable way. Perhaps, it happened for a reason.

* * *

Hope you liked it.

Whom do you pity more: Robin or Guy? Will Robin and Guy survive?

Please read and review. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think.


End file.
